The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1887-12-01

only God to hear me.
| went away quite unexpectly.
was homesick, told Aunt Martha.
left letter for Robert, giving no ex.
PLANTATION of my conduct, simply tell.
ing him it was better we should part.
was a proud girl and would not
stoop to acknowledge rival.
remember taking the ring he had
gwen me from my hand, and what q
struggle it cost me to place it with the
letter-the last letter that should
ever write to Robert.
came home to mother, who was
quite an invalid, and needed all my
care.
Inever heard from Robert, save
once through Aunt Martha, who
wrote:
"Of course, Martha. you've not for.
gotten Robert, whom, to speak can.
didly, you treated rather unkindly.
He has gone to London to practice
medicine. He is doing we'll"
An old newspaper had fallen into
my hands, where was an account
OF a brilliant reception. Among
the guests were the names OF
Doctor Robert Preston and wife.
| knew it was Robert and Kathleen.
! made no inquiries, and receiving no
further information, took it for
granted that Aunt Martha's kindness
OF heart prevented her from again re-
ferring to the past. I closed my heart
forever.
The world will never know me as a
disapp ointed woman, thought, fiat
tering myself that had quite succeed.
ed in deceiving humanity in general,
until the gossip had come upon me
with her idle words, bringing to life
tue bitter past that l thought had
buried years ago.
"Goins to church service, Miss Ken
wood?"
1t was my neighbor that asked the
question, Marcia Hall. A dear little
girl, with the utmost faith in mankind
in general.
smiled family az I caught sight OF
the new bonnet with it's dainty rib.
bons, evidently gotten up for the new
curate.
"Young and foolish" thought I.
''Wait until she's six and twenty, and
I'll wager she will not buy q new bon
net for all the new curates in the town.
Slowly we walked to church on that
bright Sabbath morning, Marcia chat
ting gaily, and dressed in the plain
est of dresses, walking silently beside
her.
l had n 1t fully recovered from Mrs.
Briggs unkind remarks, and was de.
termined to show her my disinclina-
tion to ''set my cap" as she termed
it, by appearing in an exceedingly un-
becoming gown. was really disap-
pointed on catching g. last glimpse in
the mirrtor, to find that notwithstand-
ing my plain toilet and my sixand twen-
ty years, was still a pretty woman,
and to hear my mother say as l
stopped to kiss her, "How vel; you
are looking, Mattel"
How crowded the little village
church was! filled to OVERLOOKING.
Every one was there, even that hate
full Mrs. Briggs. caught a glimpse of
the great poke bonnet as l walked
quickly to my seat.
They were singing as we entered, yet
I scarcely heard them, feeling rather
embarrassed at coming late to be
gazed at by the entire congregation.
sank YEARLY among the soft cush.
ions, gladly taking refuge behind a
huge palm-leaf fan kindly preffered
by a portly old gentleman beside me.
Now q hush, a slight furtering
among the congregation, q rustic of
garments, with now and then q sub.
dued whisper as the pulpit was rolled
close to the chancel, and the new
curate assembled.
He's just lovely" whispered Mar
cia, pulling softly at my sleeve. 'Do
look at him, Miss Kenwood."
l kept my eyes downcast. If every
woman in the congregation cast CLAM
ces of admiration, was determined to
do otherwise.
cam my brothers keeper" was
the text.
Clear and distinct came the words
of the speaker.
The first words had caused my
heart to beat wildly. How like that
voice of long ago, that rich, soft voice
that had pleaded for my love! l lis
tened like one in g. dream, until I rails
ed my eyes to see before me-Robert
Preston.
Yes, Robert Preston. Changed to
be sure-not the bright, boyish face OF
long ago. There were lines of care and
suffering on it now, while the dark
hair was streaked with silver.
Was Kathleen dead? l wondered.
Had he given up his practice? Was he
happy?
Fifty different things crowded upon
my memory.
Why had fate thrown us more once
together after my bitter struggle to
forget?
One thing I was determined upon;
must leave the village. I dared not
trust myself further. Reason as I
would, my heart told me that I loved
him STILL
1t was all over! 1 could hear the
whispered comments on the new Gu.
rate.
The singers were chanting in that
nasal, drawing tone SO natural to
village choirs, and still I sat dream.
ing.
"Are you coming?" asked my com.
panion; then, as l arose mechanically
to obey, Don't you like him. Miss
Kenwood? Do tell me! You listened
attentively, and once, as looked at
you I thought you were going to faint
away, you looked so pale. Are you
ill?"
Eyes, like him." I said aloud, while
my heart whispered, "God pity me, I
love him!"
We were out once more in the bright
sunshine, coming quite unexpectedly
upon q little group, composed OF the
weather. members of the congreaa-
ton gathered around the new curate.
They had learned he was man OF
wealth and standing, choosing his
calling simply as q matter OF taste.